


Sparring Match

by Sed



Series: Everything Turned Out Okay [1]
Category: Tron (Movies), Tron - All Media Types, Tron: Legacy (2010)
Genre: Begging, First Time, M/M, Shoes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-16
Updated: 2012-06-16
Packaged: 2017-11-07 20:38:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,710
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/435198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sed/pseuds/Sed





	Sparring Match

“Flynn isn’t this bad, why are you having so much trouble?” Tron caught his disc and docked it, staring intently with his head tilted to one side. He looked disappointed and amused, which made the sting that much worse.  
  
“Thank you for that brutally honest assessment, Tron,” Clu snapped. He walked over to pick up his disc from where it had rolled to a stop. They were in a single arena box; not the intricate, X-shaped box Tron fought in for the games. The glassy rectangle floated just above the floor of the empty arena, and if he wasn’t careful, Clu found himself becoming dizzy just watching the stands slowly spin past. It seemed wholly unfair that Flynn hadn’t written that out of him. “Got anything else you want to tell me I’m bad at?”  
  
“Nothing right now. If I think of something I’ll let you know.”  
  
Clu rolled his eyes. He knew he was sub-par at discs, and it really didn’t make any sense. Flynn had developed the game with Tron, based on the gladiator battles fought on the old system; he should have inherited his creator’s skills, but that part seemed to have been lost in the copying process. Or maybe Flynn wrote it out just so he could feel superior. “I’m done. I refuse to continue with this ridiculous waste of time.” In a flash of rage he tossed his disc to the floor again, watching with vicious satisfaction as it flipped and bounced, coming to a stop against the tilt of the wall.  
  
Tron frowned and crossed the gap with a single smooth leap. He bent down to pick up the disc, eyeing Clu as he straightened and hefted it in his hands. “You’re lucky this floor is meant to take that kind of impact, or you could be walking back to the armory with a broken disc.” He watched as Clu hesitated for a moment before snatching it back, slapping it into place between his shoulders with a petulant sigh. “So self-destructive. You won’t be happy until something really goes wrong, will you. Here,” Tron said. He stepped over behind Clu and stopped. “May I?”  
  
Clu tensed as he felt Tron’s hands hover to the side of his disc, but after a moment he relaxed and nodded. “It’s on there fine,” he said.  
  
“I’m just checking. The last thing you need is a memory glitch.”  
  
Tron’s fingers slid along the outer edge of the disc, and Clu couldn’t fight the flutter of warmth that radiated out from the dock, coursing along his circuits and making him shiver. He felt like a fool. “Just take it and hurry up.”  
  
Tron chuckled. He lifted the object from its port, and Clu could hear his fingers hiss along the beveled edge before he made a satisfied noise and clipped it back into place, pushing just enough to put Clu off balance. “Careful,” he said. “Pay more attention to what’s going on around you. I shouldn’t be able to move you like that.” He set his palms on Clu’s hips and pulled him back again. “Not unless you allow it.”  
  
“Stop that.” Clu frowned and peeled Tron’s hands away. “And stop lecturing me.”  
  
“Do you want to get better?” It was a fair question, but the way Tron said it made Clu bristle, and drew out the stubborn side of his programming that made him want to refuse out of sheer spite. “Like this.” Tron’s hands returned, and Clu was turned to face the far end of the box. “Start with a strong stance, and be prepared to hold it. This works in hand-to-hand combat as well as discs. You can’t be ready to move if you’re not secure in your footing to begin with.”  
  
“I didn’t ask you!”  
  
“Well, I’m telling you.” He waited, holding Clu in place. When Clu finally relaxed and allowed himself to be moved, Tron continued. “Don’t face straight ahead, like this. Takes too long to move out of the way. Like this…”  
  
Tron snugged his body against Clu’s, making both their circuits flare, if the snap of static that bounce between them was any indication. He moved their bodies until they were both facing the far corner, rather than the wall. Clu swallowed hard—another inherited tic—and tried to calm his processors. “Tron, this isn’t the old system,” he said, stumbling through each word. “You can’t be as _hands on_ here, remember? Flynn talked to you about that.”  
  
“I’m just trying to demonstrate,” Tron muttered. The hands on Clu’s hips slid upward, along the side of his suit and forward, over the bright white lines that came standard with the arena sets. He traced a finger over the circular transfer at the top of the chest and rocked them both forward just a bit. Clu lost his balance and stepped forward with one foot to steady himself. “See? You’re distracted.” He slipped his hand between their bodies and withdrew Clu’s disc. “Take this, throw it.”  
  
Clu snatched his disc away. “With you—” Tron’s hand found its way onto the front of his suit again, _much_ lower than it had been before. “With you pawing at me? We’ll both be derezzed.”  
  
“Just throw, and ignore everything else.” As he spoke Tron nuzzled the hair at the base of Clu’s neck, ensuring that his instructions couldn’t be carried out. Clu curled his arm back and let go. The disc clattered to the floor without ever reaching the other side of the box. “See? No danger of derezzing.”  
  
“That was pathetic!” Clu complained. He tried to elbow Tron away from him, but the other program held fast.  
  
“You’re learning stance, not throwing. That comes later.”  
  
Clu shook his head. He had heard enough of Flynn’s stories to have an idea what would come later, if Tron had a say in it. “We’re done here.”  
  
“Don’t be such a brat,” Tron said. Obviously something he’d learned from Flynn. He bit gently at the skin just above Clu’s high collar. “What color are your circuits?”  
  
“You can see my circuits. They’re white.”  
  
“No, your _other_ circuits. Mine are blue—but you know that.”  
  
Yes, any program present at the last cycle’s games knew what color Tron’s skin circuits were. Clu shook his head to dismiss the memory of a shirtless Tron, arms raised in triumph, striding around the arena to the cheers of thousands. Shameless.  
  
“I’m not—what does that have to do with discs?” Clu hunched himself, trying to pull away from the warm insistence of Tron’s body. It accomplished nothing but forcing himself into an even more compromising position.  
  
“I’m just curious.”  
  
“Be curious with someone else!” Clu groaned involuntarily as Tron’s fingertips scraped a long line up the circuit at his hip. “Gold, they—they’re gold, alright?” He panted, trying to ignore the heat building in his core, and the uncomfortable tightness of his damned suit—something that shot right to the forefront of his queue the moment he thought of it. Great.  
  
Unfortunately for Clu, Tron knew _just_ what to say. “I don’t believe you.”  
  
Clu stopped all attempts to struggle and twisted his head back to stare at Tron from the corner of one eye. “What?”  
  
“I don’t believe they’re gold. Show me.”  
  
“N—why don’t you believe me? I wouldn’t lie about that.” Clu was caught between the shock and anger of  being questioned, and the fading voice telling him that he was being tricked. The former won, and he reached over to derez the left arm of his suit. “See?”  
  
Tron made a surprised noise and reached up to trail his fingers along Clu’s exposed arm, making the circuits flush lavender. “So they are, I apologize.”  
  
“Good.”  
  
“Let’s see the rest.” In a flash Clu found himself spun around and crowded back against the slanted wall of the arena box. His boots slipped and squeaked over the slick surface, fighting for traction. Tron dug his fingers under the fabric at the shoulder of Clu’s suit, pulling it away and making it retract automatically. With his chest bare Clu suddenly realized he should have listened to the smaller voice.  
  
“Tron, you are—” The harsh reprimand he’d been preparing died in his throat as Tron bent down and kissed him, wasting no time pushing his tongue past open lips and parted teeth. His hands played over the gold circuits on Clu’s chest, making him twitch and whimper into the kiss.  
  
Clu knew that things had worked differently in the old system. He didn’t need Flynn’s memories of tumbling around at the edge of an energy pool with some little program while Tron watched and offered pointers to know _that._ He had the incidents that had occurred since then to offer substantial enough evidence. Distracting the armory sirens from their duties—all of them, at once; forcing the other security programs to retrieve him when he indulged in a bit too much distilled energy; destroying three versions of the new light cycle grid, nearly resulting in Shaddox refusing to frame another. When he was on, Tron was a program to be reckoned with.  
  
It was his off-duty habits that concerned Clu and Flynn _._  
  
 _“Mm,”_ Clu pushed at Tron’s shoulders, finding it incredibly difficult to move him. He was latched on like a grid bug. When he finally managed to dislodge him, Tron instead moved down to suck and bite at the circuits along the base of his throat. It wasn’t much better. “Tron, this isn’t…” he searched for a word Flynn might use. “Professional.”  
  
The chuckle from Tron was less than encouraging. “We don’t have to be professional right now, Clu.”  
  
He made a very good argument. Still. “I don’t think Flynn would approve, and this isn’t exactly private.”  
  
Tron finally stopped and pulled away. He placed his palms on the glass to either side of Clu’s head and stared at him, eyes dark and chest heaving. The bright T on his chest cast a pale blue splash of light across his throat. “You know what you’re _not_ saying?”  
  
“What?”  
  
“That you don’t want this.”  
  
Clu stammered and tried to argue, but he had to concede that point. It had never even occurred to him. “But—” Before he could find something else to offer up as a reason to stop, Tron slid to his knees and derezzed the lower half of Clu’s suit, freeing the erection trapped there. Suspiciously, he left the black and white boots intact. Tron wasted no time, and wrapped his lips around the head of Clu’s cock, swirling his tongue over the tip and making pleased sounds when Clu bucked his hips and cried out in response. “Tron—Tron wait—”  
  
Whatever noise Tron made in reply, it could only be interpreted as refusal. He took in more and more, slicking his tongue over the length and pulling back to wet his lips for the next plunge. Clu felt like he was going to overload, and then Tron only made it worse; he brought a hand up and fingered at the cleft of Clu’s ass, sweeping his gloved fingers back and forth intently. Clu tried to speak, but all that came out were half-words, each trailing off in inarticulate sounds as Tron’s expert tongue worked along the base of his cock, stimulating the broad circuit there and making Clu clench his teeth. He dug his fingers into Tron’s hair and lifted one leg over his shoulder, rocking his hips and fucking the hot mouth that seemed made to torment him. He was close, very close to an overload, and Tron’s undulating tongue seemed intent on carrying him there. He looked down to watch over the arched curve of his own abdomen, taking in the sight of his cock disappearing into Tron’s mouth, the other program staring up at him with so much intent it was nearly enough to drive him over the edge.  
  
Then Tron threw his leg to the side and pulled away, and Clu couldn’t have described the sound he made if his code depended on it. He stayed in the same position, back arched and cock twitching; one boot flat on the floor, and the other sliding along the slanted lower wall.  
  
Tron stepped back and made a beckoning gesture, and Clu nearly launched himself forward. “Your turn,” Tron said as he derezzed a wide section of his suit. He took his cock in one hand and stroked it a bit, gesturing for Clu to kneel with the other. “It’s only fair.”  
  
That made a lot of sense, and honestly Clu couldn’t think of any reason _not_ to. He knelt at Tron’s feet and opened his mouth, pausing just before making contact. “Is there… anything specific I should do?” he asked.  
  
Tron blinked and looked down. “Never done this?”  
  
“No.”  
  
Clu was worried that Tron would mock him, since he’d never had any trouble pointing out Clu’s inexperience and failures in any other setting, but instead he only seemed encouraged, and then he was kneeling; taking Clu’s head in his hands and kissing him again. When he pulled back and stood he swept a hand through Clu’s hair and smiled. “Just do whatever you like.”  
  
Clu leaned forward a bit and swept his tongue along the underside of Tron’s cock, encouraged by the way it moved under his touch. He reached up and wrapped his fingers around the shaft, stroking just a bit, and when Tron moaned he surged forward, swallowing as much as he could.  
  
“That’s good, Clu,” Tron breathed. He stroked the back of Clu’s head and closed his eyes. “Very good.”  
  
The thin blue lines on Tron’s cock pulsed and flashed from blue to violet as Clu dragged his lips over the length, and he could feel the static crackle against his tongue as he mimicked Tron’s earlier motions, sweeping it back and forth over the hot flesh. Tron continued his litany of encouragement, offering suggestions and gently guiding Clu with one hand.  
  
It was definitely a new experience, and Clu could see why Tron seemed to enjoy it so much. The weight and warmth of it in his mouth; the electric taste of it; the way every motion made it twitch and swell between his lips. Clu had established a rhythm, and Tron seemed lost in it. He let his head fall back and breathed hard as he plunged into Clu’s mouth, pushing against the back of his throat before pulling back for quick, shallow thrusts.  
  
“Stop,” Tron said suddenly. He pulled at Clu’s hair just enough to enforce his command. “I want more.”  
  
Clu leaned back and let the hard length slide from his mouth, sucking at the tip before letting it go. “More?”  
  
“I want you.”  
  
Tron lowered himself to his knees again, and pushed at Clu’s chest, forcing him back onto the floor. Clu sat back with his hands on the floor behind him, and brought his legs forward, boots flat and knees bent. “I should take these off,” he said.  
  
“No,” Tron put a hand out to stop him. “Leave them on.” He leaned down and placed his tongue at the tip of Clu’s boot, right along the wide, white circuit there. The sensation carried through the strip and registered along his own circuits, making him bite hip lip reflexively. “Lie back,” Tron ordered. He continued to lick his way along the circuit as Clu complied, finding his way up until the tip of his tongue barely grazed the gold circuits that disappeared under the top of the boot. Clu gasped and trembled, and Tron continued. He followed the edge of the material and back down before switching to the other foot, lifting it and holding it in his hands as he teased the pale circuits.  
  
“Tron, this is… what is this?” Clu asked. He couldn’t find anything in his memory tables to indicate a user analog for what was happening at that moment. At the very least, it wasn’t something Flynn had ever done.  
  
“Do you like it?”  
  
“I—” He did, but he wasn’t sure _why._ “Yes?”  
  
“Good.”  
  
The affection lavished upon his outer circuits continued for some time, and Clu found himself eager to experience more. He opened his mouth repeatedly, unsure how to form the question that was building to the point of bursting. _“_ Tron?”  
  
 _“Mm?”_  
  
“Can you—can we—”  
  
The warm tongue left his boot. “What do you want me to do?”  
  
Clu swallowed hard. He had enough inherited memory to know what to say, but for some ridiculous reason he felt ashamed to say it. “I want to have you… inside me.”  
  
When Tron didn’t reply he lifted his head from the floor and looked down. Tron was smiling—dangerously. He crawled along the floor until he was over Clu. “You want me? Do you think you’re ready for me?”  
  
Clu nodded. He reached down and stroked himself, staring up at Tron as his hand moved. “Please.”  
  
“Have you ever done this before?”  
  
“No. How hard can it be?” At least in his creator’s memories it seemed to be a fairly straightforward operation. “Don’t make me beg.”  
  
“Oh,” Tron groaned a bit and wrapped his fingers around Clu’s. “I think I’d like that, actually.”  
  
“You’re not serious?”  
  
“I am.”  
  
Clu looked away, feeling his circuits flare and burn along his skin. Begging wasn’t something that he relished doing, but for some reason, it appealed to him at that moment in a way he couldn’t describe. “Please,” he whispered.  
  
“Better than that,” Tron said. He leaned down and sucked at a line on Clu’s bicep. “Ask me to fuck you.”  
  
“Where did you learn that w—” A hand came up and pulled at his hair, and Clu winced. He steeled himself and growled, “Fuck me, Tron!”  
  
“Close, but not there yet. Tell me what you want me to do.”  
  
“Why are you _—ah!”_ The hand in his hair tightened, and Clu had to turn his neck to the side to avoid the pain. “I want you to take me,” he said.  
  
Tron groaned and bit down on the skin above Clu’s collar. “The first to take you, right?”  
  
“Yes, the first,” Clu panted. He tried to stroke his own cock, but Tron’s hand around his kept him from moving. “No one else.”  
  
Tron let go of his hand and reached for himself, nudging Clu’s thighs apart with his hips. Clu could feel him position himself at his entrance, so very close. “You don’t want to be filled by anyone but me,” Tron said.  
  
Clu shook his head. “I only want you, _please,”_ he pleaded. “ _Fuck me_.”  
  
Tron made a satisfied noise and pushed forward, opening Clu and spreading him wide, filling him past a limit that seemed safe, making him cry out and wrap his arms around Tron’s shoulders. He rocked forward a bit when it seemed he was fully inside, and Clu choked out a cry. “Mine,” Tron growled into his ear. He followed it with a hard thrust that made Clu tighten around him. “Say it.”  
  
“Yours,” Clu cried. His knees fell to the side, and Tron reached down to nudge them close to his waist.  
  
“Wrap them around me,” he said. Clu nodded and moved to obey, and in that instant Tron surged forward, slamming into him, hot fingers digging into his thighs. “I’ve wanted you,” Tron said between thrusts, “for _so_ long.”  
  
Clu lifted his head and looked at Tron. “What?”  
  
“Cycles,” Tron groaned, arching his back for a particularly brutal push. He leaned up and put his hands on the floor. “Thinking about it, imagining you lying beneath me, just like this.” He moved into a rhythm. “I knew it would feel good,” he said. “Just not _this_ good.”  
  
Clu tried to think of any hints, any indication that Tron had wanted him before that day—but past the urgency of his own arousal and the rolling pleasure of each thrust from Tron, he could barely focus to access his memory. It didn’t matter, anyway. Tron braced himself on one hand and reached between their bodies again, taking Clu’s cock in his hand and stroking it in time with his own as it plunged into Clu. He ran his thumb over the tip, making Clu twitch and gasp as his climax built.  
  
When he came it was hard, and Clu nearly went into a soft shutdown. He arched his back and clawed at Tron’s suit, feeling a splash of liquid heat land on his own skin. Tron never stopped moving, never broke his rhythm. The only change was the look on his face as Clu came; determined and intense, jaw flexing as Clu squeezed him with each wave of his orgasm. “Taste it,” he ordered, and his eyes widened as Clu moved without hesitation. Clu brought his fingers to his mouth, sucking them as he had Tron’s cock, deliberately swirling his tongue over each digit so that Tron could see. Tron slammed his hips against Clu and went still, muscles tight and shaking as he came. Clu could feel the warmth and pressure deep inside, pooling against the thin gold circuit that he knew from experience ran down his back and into his body. He had felt it countless times, but it had never felt like it did with Tron coming inside him. He looked down, watching Tron’s hips stutter against him.  
  
When it was over Tron settled over him. His hands ran along Clu’s sides, and he moved just enough to pull out with a contented sigh. Clu suddenly realized just what they had done, and he started to panic. “We have to get up,” he said, pushing at Tron.  
  
“It’s okay, it’s fine,” Tron soothed. He leaned up with his forearms on the floor and smiled down at Clu. “Don’t worry.”  
  
Clu could only look at Tron for a moment before the intensity of the other program’s gaze made him want to turn away. He pushed his fears away long enough to savor the feeling of Tron’s lips on his neck; warm and gentle, sucking at the circuits there. “Was I good?” he asked, unable to stop himself. He really needed to know.  
  
Tron stopped, and Clu could feel his mouth curl into a smile. “You were _perfect.”_


End file.
